


Being In Love

by Cloudnine101



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Cancer, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Holding up a finger, Eggsy turns around. "That bad, huh? Tell you what - I'll fix you a drink, and you can tell me all about it. On the house, 'cause I'm the best. Right?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I've got cancer, Eggsy," Harry says.</em>
</p><p> <em>Eggsy drops the cup.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Being In Love

**Author's Note:**

> If anything is wrong or offensive, please let me know so I can change it.

Eggsy's wings are dappled brown and white. They stand at around five feet. He turns in the mirror, and looks at them. They don't glow, or shimmer, or anything. Cartilage hooks them to his back. They spread outwards, almost scraping the opposite walls. They are surrounded by red, puffy skin.

Eggsy stretches his arms wide, and watches them move in response. They arch outwards. One of them knocks over the light. It wobbles. Eggsy catches it - and then he blinks, and he can't see them anymore than anyone else can. That is to say, at all.

Eggsy goes down into the street; he sticks his hands in his pockets, trying to find warmth. On the corner, a woman's shaking a man - her friend's - hand. Eggsy considers them, and then he grabs an arrow, and it's done. And then they're not shaking hands, they're _holding_ hands. And they're moving closer. And they're kissing one another. Gently. Slowly. Carefully.

The woman laughs, long and low and deep. Her voice echoes. Eggsy laughs with her, tipping his head back. The street is paved in the woman's glow, and Eggsy twists, dipping low onto his haunches and then back up again.

 

 

When Harry comes into the cafe, it's a Monday, and it's almost the end of Eggsy's shift. The students have all gone back to campus, now - it's just him and Roxy, keeping up with the tail-end of business. The clouds are turning grey.

The bell rings. Eggsy places his towel down, and looks across. He grins.

Harry's as handsome as ever, naturally. He's wearing a black suit, and a white shirt with folded-up sleeves. He looks tired, though. Harry's hair is slicked back against his forehead. His glasses are falling down his nose. His shoes catch the ceiling lights.

Harry smiles, squinting slightly. His eyes spark brown and green and gold. "Hello, Eggsy," he says, and warmth diffuses through Eggsy's chest, spreading down to the soles of his shoes.

Eggsy leans across the counter, and puts his elbows down onto it. Harry watches. "Hey, Harry. What's up?" Harry sighs. The corners of his mouth turn down. "Uh-oh. Did you get fired?"

Looking up, Harry blinks. His glasses make his eyes look _huge_. "No. I did not."

Holding up a finger, Eggsy turns around. "That bad, huh? Tell you what - I'll fix you a drink, and you can tell me all about it. On the house, 'cause I'm the best. Right?"

"I've got cancer, Eggsy," Harry says.

Eggsy drops the cup.

For a second, there's quiet. Eggsy's ears buzz. Across the room, Roxy's taking someone's order, and smiling politely at whatever lame joke they're making. Harry's standing in front of him, and it's like there's a hair's breadth of air between them, and Eggsy clutches the counter, leaning forwards.

And then everything's moving, and Harry's crouching on the floor, and they're picking up the fragments together and putting them in the bin.

"Sorry," Eggsy says.

Harry's hands are soft against his own. "Don't be," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have put it like that. I understand that it's shocking."

Eggsy stands up. He straightens his back, and puts his hands on his hips. Harry reemerges a few seconds later, head now tousled. Eggsy wants to run his fingers through it.

"What are you dying of, then?"

"Chondrosarcoma," Harry replies, as though it's easy to say. "It's bone cancer. Most common in adults, I think. I'm going to have chemotherapy."

Eggsy nods. He swallows. He can't think of a single thing to say.

Harry's head turns to the side. "I thought I'd tell you," he says. "It was selfish, I know. I should have warned you. Sent you a text, at the least."

"What? Sorry, mate, but I'm dying? Don't think I'd have appreciated it." Eggsy shrugs. His chest is balling up. He can't breathe. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Oh," Harry says. "You might want to find a bucket. Try taking deep breaths."

"God," Eggsy says, "God, God, God, get Rox, she knows, she knows, ah - "

"You're having a panic attack," Harry says, and Eggsy's floating. "Eggsy. Eggsy. Look at me."

"I'm looking," Eggsy gets out.

"Look at me," Harry says; Eggsy's neck snaps up. Harry's hands dig into his arms. "This is important, so you'd better be listening. Are you hearing this?"

Eggsy tries for a nod, and comes out with a moan.

"Eggsy," Roxy says, and then he's on the floor, and Harry's cradling him, and Roxy's breathing with him and holding his hand, and he's clinging onto Harry with everything he has.

"Don't hate me," Eggsy pleads.

Harry's hands are gentle as they sweep across his brow. Eggsy allows himself to lean into the touch. His chest twitches.

"Why would I ever do that?" Harry asks.

Roxy's cleared out the floor space. Eggsy feels light headed. A couple's staring at them. The man's eyes are bulging, and the woman's holding her phone. Roxy waves them back.

"Eggsy," Harry says.

"I'm messing things up," Eggsy grits out. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry bends down, and presses a feather-light kiss to his forehead. "You are not," he says.

The door closes behind the couple. The woman was wearing a red coat. She had black and golden wings. She was one of them, too. And she looked at him, right in the eyes, and she knew. She was an angel, and she didn't _help_.

 

 

A quarter of an hour later, they're sitting at the table; Harry's across from him, eyes level.

"It doesn't happen often. I know you think I'm, uh, some kind of freak, but I'm not, Harry, I'm not, it's just, just, you, and your cancer, and that, that's - "

"Eggsy," Harry slowly says, "you had a panic attack. There is no reason on this Earth for me to judge you."

"Tell me," Eggsy says. "About the - your - the cancer."

"I was having - aches." Harry stretches out his fingers. He takes a sip of his tea, glasses slipping down his nose. Eggsy's chest stretches out towards him.

"I remember. Jesus, Harry. I told you to man up."

Harry's lip quirks. "You did," he says, "but I don't think either of us could have counted on this."

"What's gonna happen to you?"

"The cancer," Harry says, "is - fast-growing. Ordinarily, one would expect to have surgery first, and then chemotherapy. I'm going to have three or four cycles, and then I'm going to have it removed, if everything goes to plan. The surgery, as I said."

"Three or four cycles," Eggsy echoes. "Sounds fun."

"I can't imagine it would be."

"Sorry, Harry, I didn't - "

"I know. You're not hurting me, Eggsy. Quite frankly, it's a relief. I was - I had - people are going to tiptoe around me, from now on. I don't want that. I need you to treat me the way you always have."

"Why're you telling me this now?"

"I start chemo tomorrow," Harry says, stirring his coffee into spirals. "The doctor said it often helped if someone - someone I cared for was with me. I know it's selfish, Eggsy, but I'm a selfish old man, and I'm - I - I don't think I'm capable of doing this by myself."

"I'll do it," Eggsy says, and it makes Harry smile again.

 

 

Eggsy goes home, and he gets out his computer, and he opens it up. He types cancer into it. And he types chemotherapy. Because there are so many different types of cancer, he can't bear to look at them all. And chemotherapy seems smaller.

The arrows are laid out on his bed. They're not in size order, or anything like that. Eggsy shuffles them around. He picks one up, and weighs it in both hands. It's heavy, and cold.

Eggsy has six arrows. He has always had six arrows. He has never used one. He has never stuck an arrow into somebody's chest, and made them feel for him what he does from them.

He's thought about it. He sees Harry almost daily. He's been in Harry's home. He could reach out, and slide it in. It'd probably be easy.

Chemotherapy kills the cancer cells by damaging them, apparently. So that they can't spread. It's used to make other treatments more effective, too. Or so Eggsy's informed.

And then Eggsy closes the screen, and he sits back, and he tries to remember Harry's Cancer's Name, but he can't, so he grabs the door keys and his coat, and walks outside, and goes downstairs. He takes the steps two at a time, and vaults the failing at the bottom, running on adrenaline, high as a kite.

Eggsy keeps going, keeps going, because if he stops, it'll catch up, and he dodges sideways, making his way down the high street. His breath smokes.

Two men walk pass him, shyly glancing at one another. Eggsy dances out, brushing into one - and as he apologises, brushing off the other man's trenchcoat, he sticks the arrow into his arm, and he pulls it out. And then he walks away.

"Hey," one man - the taller, the one in the trenchcoat, says, "I know this is out of the blue, but - how would you feel about getting drinks sometime?"

Eggsy's gone before he can hear the rest.

 

 

Harry answers the door in his pyjamas. His hair's tousled. His glasses are on the very end of his nose. His eyes are red.

"I love you," Eggsy tells him. "And I'm sorry that you've got cancer, and I'm sorry that this is happening, but I ain't gonna stop, and if you don't want to be around me anymore, that's okay. But I can't lie. I can't lie."

Winded, Eggsy draws to a halt. Harry's staring at him.

"You'd better come inside," Harry says.

Harry's place is nice. Eggsy's been there a couple of times before, mainly when Harry's invited him, and sometimes unannounced. He's only human.

Harry comes to a halt. Eggsy almost crashes into him. They sit down on the sofa, their knees brushing. Eggsy keeps his eyes on Harry's face, but Harry isn't looking at him.

"I don't want you to feel - obligated to me, Eggsy. If that's what this is."

Eggsy shakes his head. "No. This is - me confessing, I suppose, 'cause I love you, and I can't be without you. So. Yeah." Eggsy rubs his hands together. "You got the heating on? 'Cause this place is freezing."

Harry shakes his head. "This is - very sudden. Why - ?"

"'Cause you're gorgeous, mate," Eggsy says. "And you make me smile, so that's a bonus."

Harry swallows. "Is this a joke?"

"Nope." Eggsy leans forward. Harry won't meet his eyes. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," Harry quickly says, with a surprising amount of force. His hand shoots out to meet Eggsy's. "No, I don't."

"There we go, then." Suddenly, Eggsy feels light. He's floating. It's easy to capture Harry's mouth with his own; to explore his lips, to soak in the flood. "That was easy."

"Almost too easy," Harry chuckles, rubbing small circles into Eggsy's shoulder blades. Murmuring, Eggsy inches forwards. Harry's breath blows hot against his lips. "Is this really what you want?"

"All the way," Eggsy says, and then Harry kisses him, in a surge of movement, and his knees turn weak.

Harry's hands are tight on his shoulders. He peppers the side of Eggsy's neck with gentle kisses, before moving onto Eggsy's cheek, and then the corner of his lips. Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut - trying to memorise this, the way it feels, the way he feels.

"My beautiful boy," Harry says, running a hand across his cheek. "Oh, Eggsy. Oh, my darling. My darling."

And Eggsy cups his face in two hands, and rests their foreheads together. Harry's pupils are blown wide. Eggsy breathes him in, and caresses him.

"I've waited for so long," Harry starts, but Eggsy cuts him off.

They fall asleep on Harry's sofa; Eggsy's the little spoon, and Harry's the big one. The ceiling fan spins. Harry's breath puffs against his neck. His hands are soft on Eggsy's hips. Every so often, he shifts. Eggsy listens to him moving; he's grinning like a kid.

In-between Harry's shoulder-blades, the arrow fits perfectly. Like it was meant to be there all along.

 

 

Round one of chemo. It's in October, on a Tuesday. The wind whips Eggsy's jacket around. Harry's hand is tight in his own. He walks slowly.

"Give 'em Hell," Eggsy whispers to him.

Harry looks at him, and then presses a kiss to his cheek. Eggsy's stomach fills with butterflies.

"I will," Harry promises, and then he releases his hold. Eggsy slips his hand through the crook of Harry's arm, instead. Harry winces. The arrow is flushed pink.

 

 

Harry's doctor is called _Gazelle_ Pertwin. She's in her mid twenties, and she's tall, with her hair scraped up into a bun. She's very professional - apart from if she smiles, when she looks like a chipmunk.

Eggsy doesn't point this out.

He doesn't let go of Harry's hand, even as the needle goes in, and Harry's jaw tightens, and he says, "My dear boy."

Eggsy huffs out a laugh. Doctor Pertwin doesn't so much as glance at them oddly. She's cool like that. She doesn't have any wings, though.

 

 

Chemotherapy, Eggsy knows now, can take up to seven hours. This one lasts for six.

Harry is nauseous. Harry is in agony. And Eggsy has to watch. 

 

 

They leave together, Harry's coat wrapped tight around him. Eggsy wishes he had a scarf to offer.

Pasta for dinner. Harry holds the door open for Eggsy. While he's stirring, he grits his teeth. Eggsy takes over. Harry gets to setting the table.

Eggsy finds him there, standing still, staring out of the window. Outside, construction workers yell at one another.

Eggsy creeps closer, and puts his hands over Harry's eyes. "Guess who," he says.

"The Easter Bunny," Harry mutters, and Eggsy laughs. "You're getting spry. I didn't see you coming."

Hopping in front of him, Eggsy puts his hands on top of his head. Harry smirks. "Look good, don't I? Bet I could be a rabbit."

Harry just looks at him for a moment. "Yes," he says. "You could. And what would that make me?"

"A hedgehog. You'd be a great hedgehog. You could curl up in a ball. It'd be sweet." Eggsy bats his eyelashes. Harry sighs, and shakes his head. "Seriously!"

And they're in each other's personal space - Harry's right in front of him, and Eggsy could reach up and kiss him. Harry's mouth is open. His cheeks are flushed. Eggsy can't take his eyes away from him.

"You're pasta's overcooking," Harry says, and Eggsy has to dart off to rescue it.

 

 

Harry is sick, that night. He does his best to hold it in. He can't.

"Sexy," Harry mutters, and Eggsy laughs. They clean him up, and they put him to bed. Eggsy shuts the lid of the toilet, and flushes it twice. He scrubs his hands clean."Are your nursing me, now?" Harry's brow is raised.

"You bet your boots," Eggsy chuckles, and switches off the light.

 

 

The next morning, Eggsy's packing up his stuff when Roxy pays him a visit. He's in his own flat, ready to move the last of his things into Harry's. Move into Harry's.

"You used your arrow," she says. "You used it on Harry, to make him fall in love with you. Why?"

Eggsy shrugs. Picking up the remaining few, he stuffs them into his rucksack, and shoulders it. "I want him to be happy," he says. "He wasn't going for anyone. He thought he was gonna be a burden."

Roxy clasps hold of his hand. "I can see your wings," she tells him. "You're feeling strongly, if I can. Why don't you hide?"

"Harry can't see them. That's what matters." Eggsy strokes her palm softly. "Don't worry about it. I just - I - it doesn't matter to me so much, anymore. Keeping my cover. Not having the other angels notice. Being human."

"Eggsy," Roxy says, "we agreed to keep our wings secret to all but each other. All."

"And we have. I am." Eggsy opens the door; Roxy walks out of it, and he follows. "Nobody's gonna know, Rox - and besides, it's just other angels."

"We agreed," Roxy murmurs. "We agreed to be human, and to do our duty to them. To make them love one another. We can't do that set apart."

"I don't care if they love each other," Eggsy gets out. "I just want him to love me."

 

 

Round two of chemo. It's getting warmer. The days are hotting up. It's an Indian Summer, Roxy says, even though it's practically Winter, now.

Harry's looking tired. He's pale, and weak, and thin. There's no denying it. Every time you look at him, you can see the change.

Needle. Arm. Pain. Blood pressure taken, pulse taken, respiration rate taken. Infusion. Sweat. Ache.

It lasts for five and a half hours, which is less than last time.

 

 

Harry's hair is starting to thin. Eggsy doesn't point it out; when Harry notices, he cries. He falls asleep with his head on Eggsy's lap.

Eggsy takes an arrow from the bedside cupboard, and cards it through his hair - it removes the wayward strands, making them fall to the carpet.

Fact one: Eggsy is an angel. He always has been. He doesn't know why. Fact two: he can make people fall in love. He doesn't know why. Fact three: he can't help Harry.

"You're looking rather dapper," Harry mumbles. "I'd start to think you were putting in an effort, if I didn't know you so well." 

Eggsy hits him with a cushion. 

 

 

It's four am on a Thursday morning, and Eggsy starts awake. He was dreaming about standing on a yacht, and having the boat tip from side to side. The water kept on splashing over his ankles, and he was trying to scoop it out, but he couldn't.

"Keep your voice down," Eggsy mutters. "Trying to get some sleep, here."

At his side, Harry stills. His pyjamas have become baggy, recently. 

"I can't," Harry tells him, and just like that, Eggsy's wide awake and trembling.

"What is it?" Eggsy calls out, reaching towards the light.

" _I don't want to die_ ," Harry yells. "That is not _difficult_ to understand."

Eggsy gapes, stock still. "That's not what I meant."

"I want to do everything everybody else does. Why can't I do that, I ask you? I want to, to walk down the street, and go into a bar, and order myself a drink, and I can't, because my body is - is killing me. I'm dying. I'm forty eight years old, and I've got the best immune system out of anyone I know, and this shouldn't be happening to me, I don't know why it's happening to me, why is it happening to me?"

Eggsy shakes his head. Harry's running out of wind. Crouching down, Eggsy pulls Harry close to him, stroking his ridges of bone.

"I'd take it," Eggsy murmurs, beside his ear. "If I could. Any of us would."

"All the wishing in the world won't make it so."

"Uh. What book are we starting on tomorrow? I'll nip over here and fetch one."

Harry's arm goes around his waist, tugging Eggsy up against him. Dodging drip lines, Eggsy obliges.

"Brideshead Revisited. You need the classics." Harry whispers the words. Eggsy shivers. "I don't want to hurt you, Eggsy. But I won't apologise."

"I know." Eggsy leans up, and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I love you too, you stupid sod."

Eggsy pulls their bodies together, and it's ungainly and awkward, but it's home, and it's Harry, so he goes with it.

"I don't want you there, tomorrow," Harry whispers. "I don't want you to see me like that again. I want - I want you to remember me how I was. Can you do that for me?"

"No," Eggsy says. "I'm not letting you do it on your own. No way. We're meant to be a duo. Like - like Batman and Robin. Except I'm obviously Batman, 'cause I'm awesome."

Harry hums into his hair. "We'll talk about it in the morning," he says.

But already, Eggsy knows that they won't, but he's drunk on Harry's arms around him, and he falls asleep without a whisper.

Eggsy's wings are curled around them both.

 

 

Eggsy runs into the hospital mid-morning, but by then, he's too late. His jacket's hanging off his arm.

"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse tells him, "but you're not allowed in there."

"What do you mean I'm not allowed in there? He's my partner, I have to see him, please - "

The woman shakes her head. "You're not allowed in there," she repeats. "Not until the procedure's over. I am not allowing you to interrupt chemotherapy, sir. And I'm sorry. But no." The woman's earrings jangle as she shakes her head.

Eggsy sags. "I gotta call my friend," he says.

The woman smiles softly. "You do that," she tells him. "Next, please."

 

 

Third round of chemo, and Eggsy isn't there; he's leaning back against the wall. He can't make out any sounds rough it.

Roxy passes him a latte. Eggsy wrinkles his nose at it.

"One of the newbies made the thing. Don't blame me." Roxy shakes her head. "You need it, anyway."

"Thanks," Eggsy says. "Drink of the gods, this. My bigs, creamy latte. I'm gonna marry it."

"Not if I get to him first." Lunging forward, Roxy snatches the cup. "I shall name him - I shall name him - Eggsy the Second! And he shall be mine! All mine!" And then Roxy cackles, and starts to her feet, and sprints down the corridor.

Eggsy gives chase, sprinting down the corridor. And he's laughing, and Roxy's laughing, but she has to slow down so she doesn't spill Eggsy Junior, and then Eggsy's got her, tackling her from behind, spinning her around by the waist. Roxy's hair has come out of its ponytail. The bobble's hanging in limply.

 

 

Harry's barely standing upright, when Eggsy next sees him. He's had his insides scraped out.

"I hate you," Eggsy says. "I hate you. How could you do that?"

Harry gulps. "I'm not going to apologise."

"No. 'Course you ain't." Eggsy scrubs a hand down his face. "Never - ever - do anything like that again. Don't."

He must look as though he means it, because Harry's nod is meek. "I won't. I - I didn't want - "

"I'll tell you what you were. You were too bloody proud to let me help. Let me help when you _needed_ it." Eggsy closes his eyes. "We're going home."

 

 

They go home. The drive back is quiet. Inside, Eggsy opens all of the windows, and all of the doors.

"One more round," Harry says, "and I can have the operation." Only he doesn't finish the last word, because he's sick, all over the table and the floor and his bare feet.

Eggsy drags him into the tub. He's light enough to hold.

"How glamorous," Harry mutters. "I'm a sight to behold, aren't I?"

"Not your finest hour," Eggsy admits, and Harry's crying against his shoulder, taking great, gulping breaths. "There's room for improvement, yeah. You'll make it. There's a supermodel in you yet."

"I'm going," Harry starts, and then retches. Eggsy rubs his back. "I hate this. I hate it. I hate myself. I shouldn't have - "

"I love you," Eggsy tells him, and kisses the small of his back. Harry's body trembles. The arrow shakes with it. For a second, Eggsy's afraid it's going to come out, and he turns cold, but it doesn't, and it's alright, and he can take Harry in his arms again, softly, softly, softly.

 

 

Fourth round.

"How're you feeling today?" Eggsy asks.

Harry glances up from his magazine. He smiles crookedly. "Like death. And don't look at me like that. It was a decent joke."

Eggsy steps closer, and takes hold of his hand, and squeezes it. "Business as usual, then?"

"No miracle recovery in sight as yet. I'll keep my eyes peeled."

Eggsy chuckles. Lightly, he brushes his fingers across Harry's. "That's the spirit. Guess what I've got?"

"Champagne," Harry mutters.

"Close, but no cigar. Your cousin's outside. At least, he says he's your cousin. Right posh geezer."

Harry nods. "I did ring," he murmurs. "I didn't think he'd come so soon, though. What's he reading? He was always reading something. What is it?"

"I dunno," Eggsy answers, "didn't catch the title. Ask him yourself."

 

 

Cousin Merlin is Harry's precise opposite. Steely-eyed, brisk-paced and bald as a bird's egg, he clasps hold of Harry's shoulder as soon as he enters.

"You bastard," he says. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

And then Harry looks like he's going to cry, so Eggsy takes a walk down the stairs and outside, and then he goes across the road, and he keeps on and on and on at it until his feet are hurting.

Eggsy finds a wall, and sits down on it. The clouds are purpling. He doesn't know where he is.

"You alright, duck?" the woman asks him. She looks about eighty. Like wind could blow her away.

"I don't know," Eggsy says. "I will be. Everything's going to be fine. My boyfriend's in hospital."

The woman clucks. Wheeling her cart across to him, she smiles, gummy lips peeling. "Boyfriend, eh? Don't you worry, pet. My brother was just the same."

Eggsy nods. "Nice, was he? Your brother?"

"More trouble than he was worth," the woman says. "We all loved him, though. I'm sorry about your man. Has he hurt himself?"

"No. He's got cancer." Eggsy looks up at the sky. "He's dying."

The woman coos. She pats his arm. "It's tragic, when these things happen. Tragic. My sister, she went that way. Her lungs went all funny. She couldn't breathe."

"Sorry," Eggsy says.

"It was a long time ago. We were just kids. Mum was never the same, after. And why would she be?" The woman sighs. "Does funny things to you, losing someone. Funny, funny, tragic things. Tragic, it is."

"I should go back to him," Eggsy tells her. "He needs me there."

He doesn't move. The woman stares at him. "Alright," she says. "Ta-ta, love. Try to keep out of trouble."

"I will," Eggsy promises, but she's already creaking away, swaying back and forth and back and forth.

 

 

Merlin's still there when Eggsy gets back. Harry looks up at him. "Eggsy," he says. "You're here."

"I brought flowers," Eggsy says, and holds them out. "Dunno what they are, though."

Merlin peers at them. "Hydrangeas," he announces. "They symbolise heartlessness. And frigidity."

Harry snorts. "Then they match my current mood perfectly. Pass them over."

Eggsy hesitates, before putting them on the bedside table. Merlin's taken the chair, so he hovers. Harry's fingers brush along his wrist.

The nurse comes in. He smiles at them. "You make a pretty picture," he says. "Sorry about the wait. The doctor's ready for you."

Harry creaks to his feet, hand stretching out. Merlin passes him his cane. Their palms brush over it. They lock eyes.

"I'll have fun," Harry says, and quirks a lip at Eggsy. "I'll see you two when I get back."

Eggsy nods. His wings shiver. He salutes.

 

 

Outside, Merlin leans against the wall. He taps his fingers on it. "Harry told me about you."

"All bad things, yeah?"

Merlin's lip twitches. "He said he was in love with you, and that you didn't love him to the same extent."

In Eggsy's chest, something freezes. "What?"

"That's what he believes to be true. Somewhere along the way, there's been a miscommunication, I think. Just thought I'd let you know." Peeling himself upright, Merlin nods his head. "I'm going to grab a sandwich."

"The food here's terrible. Try the cafe on the corner."

"And that'd be the cafe you work at, wouldn't it?" Merlin shakes his head. "I'll do it. What do you need?"

"My life back." Eggsy runs a hand across his forehead. "A coffee. Please."

"Sure," Merlin says. "Black, I take it."

"As black as black can be," Eggsy replies. "And Roxy'll try to talk you into getting me cream. She thinks I need more calories."

"You do," Merlin says, completely straight-faced. "You're wasting away."

"Charming," Eggsy mutters.

"When was the last time you slept?"

Eggsy shrugs. "Don't matter, does it? Not while he's in there."

Merlin's eyes are full to the brim with pity. "You can't help him by exhausting yourself. That's stupid. And if that worked, I'd be dead already. An eye for an eye doesn't apply here."

"How'd you two even get close, anyway? You seem pretty tight. More like brothers."

"Went to the same school," Merlin says. "We aren't actually cousins. It's - nice to pretend. Harry was gay, and I read poetry. We were both outcasts."

"Hooray for modern society."

"Indeed." Merlin coughs. He smothers it in his sleeve. "Hasn't got any better, really. But I digress. We used to sneak out, every once in a while. We'd sit on the roof together."

"Did you ever - ?"

Merlin shudders. "God, no. I can understand the attraction, but he definitely isn't my type."

Eggsy exhales. "Right."

Merlin glances at him sharply. "I'll fetch you your coffee," he says. And, to his eternal credit, he does.

 

 

Harry dies on a Friday night in July. There's a party going on in the street. Some kids are blowing up balloons, and letting them whizz off. They look like fireworks. There's the sound of car horns, and then sirens, and shrieks of laughter.

Eggsy closes the curtains, and moves back to the chair. Picking up his book with one hand, he grasps hold of Harry with the other. Harry's eyelids flicker as he sleeps. He is in pain - pain enough that it's threatening to wake him.

"On a sheep-cropped knoll under a clump of elms we ate the strawberries and drank the wine - as Sebastian promised, they were delicious together - and we lit fat, Turkish cigars and lay on our backs, Sebastian's eyes on the leaves above him, mine on his - "

And Harry passes away.

For a moment, Eggsy just looks at him. There's no noise. There wasn't any frenzied beeping, like you seem on the telly. One second, Harry was holding his hand, and the next he wasn't.

Then Eggsy puts the book down, and then he starts to cry, fat tears running down his face, and he's making noises, but he can't tell which ones, and he's probably making a right old nuisance of himself but he still doesn't stop. And then he calls an ambulance. And he kneels on the bed in front of Harry, and strokes Harry's brow with the tips of his wings.

 

 

In the morning, Roxy takes Eggsy home from the hospital. He's not crying. He's just sitting there, on the step. Not crying. Not doing anything. He's quiet.

Roxy stands in front of him. She's wearing high-heeled shoes. "Don't I get a good day?" she chides.

Eggsy looks up at her. Her face is silhouetted by the streetlights. It's early.

"Which book is that?" she asks, and plucks it out of his hands. She plunks herself down beside him. "Hm. Good taste."

"Yeah."

Roxy looks around. "This is no place to bury a crock of gold." Eggsy looks at her blankly. Roxy sighs, and flips the book open. "'Just the place to bury a crock of gold,' said Sebastian. 'I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then, when I was old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember.'"

"Sebastian seems alright," Eggsy comments.

Roxy snorts. "Wait until you reach Brideshead. That's when things really start to unravel." Standing, she brushes down her skirt. It hangs in pleats. "I'm going to miss him too, you know."

Stumbling to his feet, Eggsy yanks her into a hug. They stay like that for some time. Roxy's wearing perfume. It tickles Eggsy's nostrils.

"Come on, then," Roxy finally says, when he releases her. "Let's get out of here."

Eggsy nods, and says, "Who's told Merlin? He'll want to - he'll - " And then he can't finish, so he sits back down again instead.

"The doctors called him, and he called me. He was Harry's nearest family member." Roxy's peering at him, out of the corner of her eye. Her smile is soft. "Everything's going to be alright, Eggsy. I promise you that. We will get through this."

"Okay," Eggsy says. To his own ears, his voice is stilted. "I wanna go now."

Roxy seems to deliberate before taking his hand, and winding their fingers together. "There," she says. "Now you look the proper gentleman."

Eggsy coughs out a laugh. His stomach twists. "I'm starved," he says. "Hey. Rox. I can go back to work, now. You won't be on overtime anymore. That newbie won't make terrible lattes. I can help."

"Eggsy," Roxy says.

Eggsy puts his head on her shoulder, and breathes in her scent. Roxy's hair brushes his cheek. He backs off, and crouches, and puts his head between his knees. "I can't breathe. Oh God, Rox, I can't breathe."

And Roxy grounds him, but something's punching out of Eggsy's chest, and he can't stop it. He's shaking.

 

 

That night, Eggsy has a pleasant dream, which he forgets upon waking. He's sitting on a yacht. The wind's blowing him from side to side. It's sunny, though - he's sweating. There's a figure right behind him, just out of his view. Every time he turns, it's gone.

When he wakes up, Eggsy sits on the end of the bed, and watches the sunlight stream through the curtains. His hands are folded together. He can taste his own breath. Without Harry's yawns, Eggsy can hear the traffic.

Eggsy stands up, and faces the mirror, but there's nobody at his back. It's just him, and his wings, stretching out behind him.

 

 

Merlin's sitting on his balcony, drinking champagne and staring at the stars. Eggsy wakes at midnight to discover him. "What - what're you - oh my God, mate, are you - ?"

"I'm not an cherub," Merlin tells him, "if that's what you mean. I'm a halfling. Half human, half one of us - so, you see, you and Harry aren't so uncommon."

Pulling up a seat beside him, Eggsy puts his head in his hands. "I used my arrow," he confesses. "I used it on Harry. Nobody told me to stop, so I did, and I shouldn't have. He could've found somebody to love."

Merlin makes a noise beneath his breath. "That's a song title, isn't it? Somebody To Love?" He shrugs. "Ah, well. Do you know, a friend of mine told me a little something about those arrows."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Merlin folds his arms across his chest. "They don't work. Not on humans and angels, in any event. My friend had tried hard to make it possible."

"But - but - Harry - he told me he loved me." 

"Yes," Merlin says evenly. "He did."

Eggsy stands up. His wings flutter in the breeze. "He did," he echoes. "How?"

"That's for the two of you to know." Standing, Merlin straightens his tie. "It was nice to meet you. We might see each other again."

"How'd you get up here, anyway?"

Merlin stares. "Have you never flown before?"

Eggsy shakes his head. "Never had a reason."

Merlin adjusts his glasses, and blows onto his hands. "Now might be the time to start, then," he says. "I am sorry for your loss. We have all felt it - but you, I think, the most keenly."

Eggsy runs his palms across his face. Merlin raises his glass. "What are you toasting?" 

"New beginnings," Merlin says. "Yours and his." 

"New beginnings," Eggsy replies. His wings murmur the words back. 


End file.
